


Highway Robbery

by flowersheep



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bandits & Outlaws, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: Fishlegs recounts the story of that time he was a victim of highway robbery on his way to the town of Belkarth.





	Highway Robbery

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of two How to Train Your Dragon/The Elder Scrolls Online crossovers I've come up with. The minute I saw there was a place in Craglorn called Haddock's Market my mind went, "Hey, Hiccup's last name is Haddock" and ran with it. Fishlegs just seemed like a good victim for highway robbery.
> 
> Also for those not familiar with the Elder Scrolls, "Covenant" refers to the Daggerfall Covenant, one of three alliances on the continent of Tamriel fighting over the central province of Cyrodiil some time in the second era.

Fishlegs had been warned about traveling through Craglorn. Every colleague he’d spoken to when planning his trip had told him to make sure he traveled with the Covenant. It was the most well protected way to travel and the least likely to attract trouble, what with the soldiers everywhere. A few of his colleagues had even told him not to go at all. It wasn’t worth the risk, they said. Who cared about the supposedly strange properties of some of the plants there? There were plenty of weird plants for Fishlegs to study literally anywhere else in Tamriel. But Fishlegs ignored them. He figured as a member of the Mages Guild he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. And hey, he’d even travel with a merchant caravan, just for a little extra protection. However, as he watched bandits rummage through the carts and pick through everyone’s belongings, he realized he probably should’ve taken his colleagues’ warnings a little more seriously.

“Sorry I know we’re taking up a lot of your time. We’re almost done here.” This was said by a tall man who’s only distinguishable feature was his green eyes and even they were difficult to make out. Like the rest of the bandits, he wore a mask over the lower half of his face and a hood hid his hair and cast a shadow over his eyes. Fishlegs thought he was probably the leader based on the authoritative way he spoke and the fact that he wasn’t participating in the raid so much as supervising it.

“You could’ve just not robbed us at all,” Fishlegs muttered. The caravan guard beside him made a pained sound and elbowed Fishlegs as hard in the side as he could manage with his hands bound. Fishlegs glared at him before realizing the bandit leader was staring at him, clearly having heard the muttered complaint. By some good fortune though he didn’t look angry. His sword remained sheathed at his side and his bow was still slung across his back.

“I suppose we could’ve just let you pass by unharassed,” the leader mused. Some of the other bandits made sounds of disagreement. “But the local lord really doesn’t need anymore antiques stolen from ancient ruins and a skilled alchemist from the Mages Guild was just too tempting a target.” Fishlegs was torn between horror that they’d apparently known he was coming and pleasure at the idea that he was considered so good at his craft that they just had to rob him. An odd, but sincere compliment.

He watched with raised eyebrows as the bandits repacked the bags they’d gone through and stored anything they hadn’t stolen back in it’s proper place. “We’re not animals,” the leader said when he noticed Fishlegs’ staring. “And we understand a merchant has to make some profit.” He went and helped his people drag their loot off the road. When the loot was secured somewhere beyond Fishlegs’ sight, the leader returned and approached the youngest member of the caravan, a boy no older than ten. He drew a dagger. Fishlegs opened his mouth to protest any harm coming to the child, but before he could get even one word out the leader crouched behind the shaking boy and cut the ropes binding his hands.

“You’re good with knots, yeah?” the leader asked. The boy just stared up at him with wide eyes, but the leader seemed unperturbed. “Or if you’re not, I’m sure someone around here has a dagger or a knife or something sharp you could borrow. Either to free them or kill them, your choice.” The bandit leader straightened and turned to the rest of the caravan. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I’ve gotta get going. Besides, I don’t want to take up anymore of your time than I already have. Good luck and try not to get eaten by giant scorpions.” The dagger disappeared back into its sheath and the leader walked away.

-

“Well you had quite the interesting first impression of Craglorn didn’t you my friend!” The mercenary laughed and took a long drink of his mead before lounging back in his chair and smiling at Fishlegs. He’d neglected to mention his name- to anyone, apparently- and he had far too many sharp weapons on his person for Fishlegs to be comfortable asking. This wasn’t the first time the mercenary had traveled through Craglorn and someone had apparently recommended that he find Fishlegs and ask about his trip to Belkarth. “Quite the charming young fellow our young bandit leader, isn’t he?”

“You’ve met him?” Fishlegs asked. Most people in Belkarth had at least glimpsed the thief Fishlegs had encountered a few months ago. Few were willing to discuss him though and when they did it was in hushed whispers with darting glances over their shoulders. Certainly not with the enthusiasm of the mercenary. Some thought he was a malevolent spirit, possibly unleashed by accident by a couple of amateur mages. Others thought he was a supernatural being and even the tiniest whisper about him would reach his ears and mark you as a target. There were all kinds of stories and theories from the plausible to the ridiculous. The one thing everyone could seem to agree on was that the thief was associated with Haddock’s Market, the hideout of the Hooligan tribe. Even after all his time in Belkarth Fishlegs didn’t know much about them, only that that controlled the southern half of Craglorn, particularly the area around Belkarth. They were also, apparently, predominantly Nord, but the location their tribe had migrated from in Skyrim was highly debated.

“I’ve run into him a few times,” the mercenary said, pulling himself away from the girl that had stopped near their table and was leaning in towards him. That was something Fishlegs had noted happened a lot with his current drinking companion, the flirty smiles that seemed to draw everybody in. Fishlegs was no expert, but he supposed he could appreciate the mercenary’s roguish charm, his long hair, his rugged beard, his devil-may-care attitude.

“He’s robbed you more than once?” Fishlegs’ eyebrows went up to his hairline, but the mercenary shook his head, waving a hand in the air.

“No, no, no. I don’t think mercenaries are interesting targets for him. We travel light and are generally armed to the teeth. I’ve noticed he usually goes after people who have plenty to spare. He did pick my pocket the first time I was here though, in the market. If I hadn’t reached for my purse immediately after I wouldn’t have even noticed. I managed to see him just as he disappeared into the crowd. Tried to chase him down, but it was like he vanished into thin air. I’ve heard from a few people that Belkarth has a refuge for outlaws so I figure he probably slipped in there. I had a bit of coin stored away in my boot, but it was hardly enough for a room at the cheapest inn. I did manage to talk this cute farm boy into buying me a drink. He had a good laugh at me when I explained I couldn’t return the favor because a thief had nicked my money that afternoon and I’ve always wondered if that was why he didn’t come back to my room with me or if there was another reason. Was a shame. I’m normally a hit with cute farm boys.” A wistful expression passed over the mercenary’s face and Fishlegs rolled his eyes.

“What about the other times?” Fishlegs asked when the silence had gone on long enough. “You said you’ve met him more than once.”

“Indeed I have. Only ever picked my pocket that one time though. Second time I happened to see him sitting on a roof, probably observing patrol patterns. Wasn’t my business. Third time I happened to pass by as he was robbing a caravan. Thought about stopping to help, but he had a lot of friends with him and there’s only one me. Fourth time I happened to bump into him in an alleyway. He’s actually quite pleasant to talk to when he’s not robbing you.” The mercenary finished his drink and dropped a few coins on the table. “Well, I thank you for sharing you story, my friend. I always enjoy hearing what Belkarth’s resident bandit leader has been up to. See you around.” Tossing Fishlegs a lazy, two-fingered salute, the mercenary hooked his arm around the waist of a passing young man.

Fishlegs caught him saying, “Well if it isn’t my favorite Belkarth farm boy!” to which the young man, smiling with amusement, replied, “I’m still not coming back to your room,” before they disappeared into the crowd.

Rolling his eyes again Fishlegs sat back and finished off his own mead, paid his bill, and headed back to the guild. He had some work to finish up before the night was through.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many people reading this have watched BBC Merlin, but the mercenary is actually a character from that show. I didn't do it on purpose but when I was thinking 'charming roguish mercenary' one character immediately popped into my head and that was that.


End file.
